


Toe Socks

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-26 05:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17740097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Tara's socks set Spike to reminiscing.





	Toe Socks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [3hours](https://archiveofourown.org/users/3hours/gifts).



> This is for 3hours who requested Spike/Tara and "Toesocks. Because reasons."
> 
> I'm afraid the random was too much for me... this is... bizarrely sock-centric.

Spike wouldn’t have noticed someone’s socks normally, but it was a long, tedious research session in the Magic Box, and after he’d exhausted his various ways of proving he didn’t give a rat’s ass if they found out what was turning people orange and making them crave human flesh, he’d ended up stretched out on the floor with  _Huang’s New Demon Compendium_  balanced on his chest and more than one Slayerette had stepped over the undead speedbump in the interim. It was part of the point – to be annoying and possibly catch glimpses up skirts.  
  
Rainbow stripes mapped out the sumptuous curve of a firm calf, ending just above the knee where pearly flesh took over, tantalizingly shadowed. But it was the part closest to his face that really caught his eye. Five little toes, each in their own bright hue, flexing as they stepped over him.  
  
“Toe socks, Glinda?” He lifted himself up on one elbow.  
  
Tara ducked her head and continued on her way behind the counter to pick up another book. Spike followed her. “You know what’s good about toe socks? Better grip.” He leered and Tara blushed so deeply he could smell the capillaries bursting.  
  
He purred, “Oh, so you know,” as she had to pass him again on her return trip. That earned him a nudge with one foot that might someday grow up to be a kick.  
  
Spike leaned against the counter, following the young witch with his eyes. “They were a bit of a fad in the ‘80s. I remember one summer in Prague, I caught this delicious little student…”  
  
“Spike!” Buffy threw a wadded-up ball of paper at him. “No evil reminiscing.”  
  
“I didn’t say I ate her,” Spike said, with mock affront.  
  
“’Delicious’?” Xander offered, looking up from his book. “Describing people in food terms bad.”  
  
Spike tisked. “I’d call Tara delicious, wouldn’t I? And shame on the man who wouldn’t.” He winked at her, or rather at the curtain of her hair as she hid her face.  
  
Willow glared. “Hitting on someone else’s girlfriend! Definitely evil.”  
  
“She started it, what with the sexy footwear and all, and those creamy thighs- Oy!” Xander pushed Spike toward the door, cutting off his sultry soliloquy. “Hands off the leather!”  
  
“I’m saving your life and my sanity,” Xander said, and ushered Spike out of the shop. “And… toe socks? Not a fetish for me, and I thought I had all of them.”  
  
Left alone on the deserted main street, the shop bell dingling behind him, Spike laughed, congratulated himself on getting out of research duty, and headed off to look for a brawl or booze or both – either way, the direction was clear: Willy’s.  
  
***  
  
While it compared favorably – very VERY favorably – with a night spent reading dusty old books, a night at Willy’s was still a night at a suburban dive bar with the same old, boring regulars. Even demons got dull if you knew too many of them. So Spike headed back to his crypt after only a few drinks, disappointed and still itching for a fight.  
  
He dropped his coat and turned to the television, only to stop dead at the sight of Tara sitting in his chair, her legs, in the same rainbow-colored socks, dangling over the arm. She straightened up, smiled, blushed, looked down and stammered, “I-I j-just…”  
  
Spike must have looked as dumb-struck as he felt, because when she glanced up, she laughed. Spike scowled. “Oy. You’re visiting evil. I could sell you for poker chips.”  
  
Tara bit her lip. “Or show me what you meant about gripping socks?”  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow. “It always is the quiet ones, isn’t it?”  
  
She smiled, and took a step closer. Spike said, “But what about…”  
  
And then she ran her toes up his leg, and showed him she did, indeed, know exactly what he meant about toe socks being better for gripping.


End file.
